“Why did your father come to London?”
She scowled at him. “Does he need a reason?” She’d been right, she thought, disappointed. He was not here to steal a kiss. But what? Her chest grew tight. To learn something from her. “We came for my debut.”
“And only that?”
“Isn’t that reason enough?” she asked, eyeing him. Disliking his silence, she continued, “My father inherited some money. He always hoped to honor his promise to my mother for me to make my Come-out. Mama considered it important. She came from a good family.”
“Where did this newfound wealth come from?”
She gaped at him. What business was it of his? She was so flabbergasted, she rushed to her father’s defense. “He was the beneficiary of a distant relative’s will. You might consult our solicitor if you doubt us.”
He ignored her, not doubt considering her outburst unreasonable. “Your father has been to London before?”
“Many times, I imagine. But some years ago. Why do you ask?”
The couple abandoned the gazebo. Laughing together, they came toward them on the path. After they passed, Reade took her arm and drew her reluctantly along with him up the rise. “I apologize for these questions, but I need to know.”
“You might tell me why,” she said again. “My family must be the most uninteresting people in London. My father is a decent man,” she added grittily.
“I don’t doubt he is.”
“You are most mysterious, Lord Reade.”
“I fear you must find me so.”
Jo scowled at him. “I do.”
They had entered the gazebo. Reade leaned his back against the rail, his eyes resting on her. How graceful he was, his long limbs arranged in a casual pose. Except that he was more like a tightly wound spring, she thought distractedly. And this was not a casual conversation between two guests at a party. What might he possibly want from her?
“Tell me more about your father. How long did he have the haberdashery store?”
She turned away from his penetrating gaze. It made her nervous and defensive.
Gripping the rail in her gloved fingers, she gazed out over the gardens, a web of luminescent light and shadow where the lamps and moonlight couldn’t reach. “Papa bought a farm after he left the navy, but his injured back made such work difficult. He had fallen from the mast onboard ship when he was young. He sold the farm and bought the shop ten years ago.” Her polite voice defied her churning thoughts. As if she chatted to the vicar after church. But a sense of foreboding sent a warning to her brain.
“How do you know the Virdens?”
She swung around to face him. “The Virdens? Who are they?”
“You claim not to know Virden?” He sounded skeptical.
“No. I’ve never met the man. Should I have? Is it important?”
He had moved closer, his eyes searching hers. “Perhaps not,” he said inscrutably.
“Then I am relieved, for I cannot supply you with the answers you seek and feel as if I’ve been playing a rather poor game of charades.”
He laughed. “Then, I apologize again.”
“I should like you to tell me what lies behind this inquisition.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Is it as bad as that?”
“It is confusing and disturbing.”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to reveal my reasons. Shall we return to the house?”
Jo narrowed her eyes at him. “Very well.” She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to question him further about his interest in her father. But it would be a waste of time.
